He was too far under the weather to make it from the jail to the courtroom.

So, after conferring with his client in jail, Spencer stood alone against the court.

"My client wishes to enter a plea of guilty," he spoke in a brave voice, "but he is too ill to make an appearance.

"My client," Spencer's voice was now shaky with emotion, "is a victim of toxic poisoning."

The understanding judge didn't quite understand.

"Toxic poisoning?" he questioned.

"Spencer nodded. "A preliminary medical investigation shows that he has an overabundance of alcohol in his blood."

More sympathetic than ever, the judge gave the ailing man 10 days to recover.

But last week there came a case, and oratory by Spencer, which could
easily stand for years as the high point of his legal career.

The accused was a small, thin man of 50 hard winters. Hanging from his
shoulders was a piece of cloth which might once have been recognizable
as a shirt. His trousers bagged and the thin legs covered by them
knocked against each other uncertainly.

His hair was wispy and uncombed and a three-day stubble grew at random around his face.